


Divine Wind

by Aykam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, BAMF Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Drug Addiction, F/M, Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley Friendship, Hermione Granger Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slytherins actually have their shit together on this one, Someone help hermione granger please, Suicidal Thoughts, Theodore Nott is a fuckboy, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aykam/pseuds/Aykam
Summary: Devine wind: extremely foolhardy and possibly self-defeating: kamikaze pricing.But they didn't know, no one knew, that Hermione was, in fact, more lost than ever. So lost that at night she wondered if she would be able to find her way back.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	1. 1

Hermione remembered many things from her childhood. The parks where she used to play, the meals her mother used to make when she was sad, the color of the pills she used to take. She even had some dialogues memorized from the shows they liked to watch after her parents were back from work, the music they liked to listen to on Sundays after church.

She could smell her mother’s favorite brand of tea and her father’s ground coffee —he was more fond of coffee and so was Hermione. She remembered the way her mother's hair moved with the air every time they were on the road. How her father liked to scream, not sing, but scream along with his favorites songs, those that reminded him of his youth.

She remembered everything about them, every smile, every laugh, every scream, every fight.

They were just too precious to her.

Memories of her mother making biscuits every time she got a good grade got her through the first year, in the second year her quick response to the basilisk attack came from her father's advice of always looking out of the box when a problem looks too big. Third year and the recklessness of using the time turner so carelessly came from every time she saw her mother aspiring for more when it came to her work, her studies, her life. Every time she hit a dead end, a crossroad, she remembered them, their love, their devotion for her. It was all she had for a long time before she had magic, friends, Hogwarts.

Then the war happened, and it took everything from her, her innocence, her faith, her confidence, her will — but not her family.

She did that herself.

The memories that once made everything easy, that pushed her to greatness, were now empty shells of something that ceased to exist. There was no love to remember, for the love that her parents felt for her vanished with their memories.

Memories she took, memories that she still had, but they didn't.

And it couldn't be undone.

At first, she thought " it was only temporary", something that she would be able to fix. She was good at that: fixing things, resolving problems. She was Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age. She could undo the spell.

Hermione used to be told that she was way too smart for her own good, as if that was something bad. She never believed there was something wrong with being too smart or too good at something, she thought that precision and perfection were the only things that matter when it came to magic. Until she cast THAT.

She was the brightest witch of her age, after all. Perfection was only expected.

Hermione did not just obliviate their memories, she modified her parent’s psyche. There was no place for her in their brains nor their lives.

Just like that, with a flick of her wand, she fucked up royally.

She was supposed to fix things, not make a mess of them, but it seemed that the harm was done, and there was nothing she or anyone could about it. The healers told her that there was so much at stake, it wasn't even worth the try.

For the first time in Hermione Granger's life, she gave up when she was told to.

Maybe it was the war that left her with no fight within her, maybe it was the love she felt for her parents, and the fact that there was no way in hell she would risk them for her own selfish reasons.

Maybe it was the image of them walking in the streets of Australia, happy, with no worries in the world, and their smiles that made her turn her back and leave.

As she left them behind she realized, with an excruciating pain that she, Hermione Granger, had made herself an orphan.

* * *

Hermione looked through the window and waved. Just like that first time all those years ago, the only difference being that she wasn't waving goodbye to her parents, but her friends.

Mr. And Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly while Ron and Harry were still saying goodbye to Ginny.

Hermione kept her eyes on Harry and Ron for a moment. They were flashing a bright smile and wearing their Auror uniform. Both looked well, healthy, in the way of healing. Ready for greatness, for the world.

Hermione felt jealousy. Sick and painful jealousy.

_"Take it easy, dear. Healing has its process, and it’s different for everyone, one day at the time you will be fine," Molly told her._

But she couldn't help feeling like instead of getting better, she was getting worse. Less sleep, less food, less motivation. The only reason she was getting back to finish her studies was that there was nothing else she wanted to do. Not in the Ministry, not in Australia, not in Wizard Britain.

Hermione had nothing else, no path to take. So she took the only way she knew well enough — Hogwarts.

She couldn't stand to stay with the Weasleys, not after everything that happened, every loss, the pain. Not after Ron.

She lowered her hand, slowly looking away from her friends. There was so much lying a witch could do. Hermione just closed her eyes, waiting for a little bit of silence. Lately it seemed that there was nowhere for her to be able to find some peace, even when she was alone. Especially when she was alone.

The stares of her friends could be felt through the window, and she knew they were looking at her, whispering between them, studying her, testing her.

Waiting for her to break.

They wanted to prove a point, to prove that she wasn't taking the best path.

She would not give them the satisfaction.

Hermione held her breath, kept her eyes tightly shut until it almost hurt, her hands holding onto her jeans for support. She had nothing else to hold on to.

The train started to move and Hermione let go of the breath in her lungs.

"There you are," Ginny’s voice cut the agonizing silence.

As the red-haired entered the compartment Hermione saw that she was smiling. Of course she was smiling. Her face was bright with joy, and Hermione felt annoyed.

Another pang of jealousy hit her like a truck.

"You really disappeared on me, one minute I'm turning away to say goodbye to everyone and when I turn back you were already on the train." She chuckled while throwing her long hair over her shoulder. "Are you really that excited to go back to Hogwarts?"

No, she wasn't, not as she supposed she should be, not as she thought she would. She just got faster to the train because she couldn't bear the sight of all the families saying goodbye.

The smiles, the tears, the haunted eyes of some. It was too much for her. Lately, everything seemed like too much.

"More than excited. I am quite tired really, I didn't sleep well." She tried to master her face into the mask of strength she had been wearing the last months.

"You and Harry were quite effusive yesterday, you know, saying your respective farewells." Hermione lifted a suggestive brow, waiting for her friend to react at the innuendo, so the conversation could drift apart from her obvious hurry to leave for Hogwarts. " Honestly, one may think you and Harry could have to bothered with a mufliatto cast to spare all the house of mentally scarring situations like that." Hermione cringed at the memory of her disgusting realization about how thin the Burrow´s walls were.

But as always Ginny didn't back down.

"Well, of course, I was effusive enough and I forgot about the spell, but in my defense, I will not see him until Merlin knows when." She smiled. "I'm sure you and Ron were-" She flinched at her mistake.

Hermione sighed, slumping in her seat looking through the window as the train moved.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"It is fine, Ginny. I am getting used to it too." It was not fine and she was not getting used to anything. "But I’m really tired, I’ll sleep a bit, yeah? If the food car comes by, wake me up. I didn't eat much before we left."

Ginny didn't say anything, only nodded. Good, she wasn't smiling anymore.

Ginny kept quiet for a while, and Hermione pretended to sleep.

"What are you doing, Hermione?"

Sometimes Hermione wondered if people felt that way when she didn’t shut the hell up.

"Trying to sleep, of course." Hermione didn't open her eyes, and just hoped that her friend would back off for a moment.

"Don't play dumb." Ginny's voice was ortund. So aggressive sometimes, even when she didn't mean it — a con of growing with 6 older brothers, and not just any brothers, Weasleys at that. "You could have stayed, you should have, there's nothing more in Howagarts for you."

Hermione opened her eyes and looked at her friend straight to her brown eyes while she straightened herself on the seat.

"There's so much more than Hogwarts can still give me," Hermione defended, feeling pang anger at the declaration of what she should or shouldn't do. "How I am expected to get a decent job if I don't have my education finished?"

"Oh, you must really think me a fool Hermione Granger," Ginny hissed while she crossed her arms in front of her.

She could see in her eyes, what was about to go down.

Hermione remembered the spell, unlike Ginny.

"Muffliato," she cast through gritted teeth. She couldn't lose it in the train, not the first day, not to Ginny.

"What’s that supposed to mean.?" She mirrored the position of her friend, chin up, arms crossed, and a glare. "Do you want to share something with the class?”

"Indeed I do. Do not tell me that you're here because you fear the prospect of not finding a job, because that's utter bullshite. I know that Shacklebolt offered you Auror training or even training as an Unspeakable." Ginny could be brutal without needing to be an arsehole about it, but she was being one at that moment.

"And if you said you didn't want those positions, you could have asked for a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and they would have given it to you just like that." Ginny snapped her fingers, trying to prove her point.

Hermione signed, rubbing her nose bridge trying to convey some patience. Only Merlin knew she was lacking that at the moment.

"Who told you that?" she commanded. She was clear to Shacklebolt the day she refused those positions. Hermione asked for secrecy for that exact reason, knowing well that her friends were going to react that way and be all over her trying to convince her to not waste such a big opportunity. "Do Harry and Ron know?"

Ginny huffed, looking at the window with a tight jaw. "Of course not. I’m not daft. I knew if you haven't told anyone was for a reason the only way I found out was because I overheard dad talking to mum."

At least there was that.

"You're right, I have a reason, so please keep this between us. No need to make a fuss about something so senseless," Hermione replied, trying to keep her tone in check. "As for why I rejected Shacklebolt´s offer, it’s easy. I like to earn my achievements. I don't like to be just handed things, when and IF I chose to work at the Ministry of Magic, I would do it by my own terms. No one will just hand it to me."

"You fought in a bloody war, Hermione! You earned it!" Ginny snapped. “And what do you mean with “if” you decide to work in the Ministry? That’s been your dream since forever.”

Hermione could see so much of Harry and Ron in that girl that it was absurd. They got angry when they didn't understand, they shouted when they didn't get any answers.

"And this thing with Ron, I just-"

That was it, the last straw.

"GINEVRA WEASLEY!" Hermione yelled, standing so fast that she almost lost balance. "That’s quite enough, you do not need to understand anything, you need to respect my decisions and that’s it!” She was fuming, feeling her hair getting frizzy with fumes. She gathered her beaded bag and her jacket leaving the compartment without bothering to look at the redhead and just slammed the door on her way out.

She didn’t stop walking, even when she knew the train wasn't endless. Feeling the eyes of everyone, she passed through and only stopping in a random compartment that luckily was empty.

Hermione closed the door and drew the curtains down from the little window that was in the door so no one would bother her. She really wasn't in the mood to talk to people.

Hermione could feel her pulse in her throat. She couldn't place how she felt. It wasn't anger — she could control anger. It wasn't sadness otherwise she would have been crying her eyes out by that moment. It wasn't anything but it was a lot at the same time.

Too much noise in her head. 

Running her hand through her tangled hair, Hermione tried to accept the fact that she screamed to Ginny in the first 10 minutes of travel. It was the first time she really screamed at Ginny. Normally it was the boys who could push her to such limits, but it seemed Ginny just knew what buttons to push. Or it was just Hermione’s inability to face confrontation. 

That was becoming a recurrent issue, her new distaste to confront anything that had her facing facts, facing the truth, facing reality. 

Hermione was becoming unable to confront reality.

There were a lot of reasons why she couldn't and wouldn’t accept Shacklebolt’s offer, first and foremost the fact that she couldn't — for the life of her — trust the Ministry even after the war was won. Especially after the war was won.

Hermione no longer saw herself working within the same place that just some months earlier were persecuting her kind, only for the fact they thought their existence was an insult.

To work in a rotten structure like that someone must have a strong will to fight the darkness from inside out, faith that with perseverance there would be change. Hermione didn’t have such a thing as a will to fight darkness anymore. Not so soon after everything, not so soon after her parents. 

Harry could do that. Ron would follow. This time Hermione would take a step back even if her soul broke a little because of it, but she could not do it, not at that moment, and maybe not ever. Hermione would find another way to make the wizarding world better, but not while she was in the Ministry.

Hermione understood that the moment they had won. Harry wouldn't understand it, he would dismiss her feelings as always, try to convince her otherwise, tell her that she would feel different once she was working.

But Hermione knew she wouldn't.

Hermione could not — even if she tried— tell her best friend that she didn't hold any kind of hope in the system Harry so blindly trusted. There was no way Harry Potter, the most black-and-white person she knew, could understand that.

She looked through the window, always searching for something but finding nothing to keep her distracted. Lifting her legs in the seat she hugged them while her chin rested on her knees.

Ron. Ginny had to mention Ron.

Hermione knew what was expected of her, what she expected from herself, and ending up in a relationship with Ron was one of those things.

Nothing about the breakup, if that was even one, was really bad. It was what came after.

After the end of the war, after the kiss, Hermione rested for two weeks, waited for all the funerals to end, all the arrangements to be made so she could go to her parents. 

Ron and Hermione couldn’t really explore so much about the new relationship. He was mourning his brother and she was trying not to lose her parents.

Then Australia happened. Her body, her mind took everything in at once — the war, the survival, Bellatrix — and both her mind and body just gave up on her.

While the healers worked on her parents, she went to look for help. She couldn’t eat, she couldn't sleep, and every little sound, every little thing made her jump. Her need of having her wand at hand at all moments made pushed to the edge of a breakdown. 

She was barely functional.

Not even two weeks and the healers broke the news to her, and that was a disaster on its own. 

But Hermione was too a disaster waiting to happen. She had had to be sedated by the healers after the whole incident. She was left without another sensible option but to admit herself to a mental hospital, a muggle one. It was better that way. No one knew her in the muggle world, and Hermione doubted that the mental health care was even good in the Wizarding World. 

No one knew of it, of the white walls she had to see every day, all the pills she was prescribed, the way she had to go around her trauma to make it appropriate to a muggle. She lied so much in two months that she wondered if she could say enough truth in her lifetime to make up for it. 

When Hermione came back, her friends believed that everything went well. They believed she had come back with her parent’s memories restored and a readiness to keep moving forward, and she didn’t correct them. It was easier that way, to live in a lie rather than confront the reality of her situation. 

But they didn't know, no one knew, that Hermione was, in fact, more lost than ever. So lost that at night she wondered if she would be able to find her way back. 

Ron somehow, of all people, looked at her eyes and knew.

“This isn’t going to work,” they both said, as if it was the easiest thing to conclude after years of going in circles with their relationship.

She didn’t cry, he didn’t yell. They didn’t try, or even talked about it. They didn’t look for a reason or get the record straight. It was just the end, abrupt and real. After all the years of expectations, of tension, only a kiss consumed it and Hermione didn’t feel disoriented — she felt nothing.

The last thing she had left was gone too.

After that, even when they were at the Burrow, they didn’t cross paths, and Hermione would have appreciated that if I wasn’t for the whole family making a fuss about it.

It was just too much for her. She had to get out.

She sighed and let her head fall to the wall and closed her eyes, hoping for sleep.

* * *

She didn’t know when or how she fell asleep and only noticed when she woke up, feeling tired, unrested. Nothing new.

The noise outside of the train made her realize the train wasn’t moving anymore and all the people already left. Hermione had slept all the trip, which was at least three hours, and that in itself was a record.

Hermione didn’t sleep anymore. Not so much, not without being woken up by her own screams.

She stood up, throwing her bag to her shoulder. All that she owned was there. It was comical even if it was charmed to fit more than it should.

Hermione hoped that she didn’t cross paths with Ginny because she didn’t know how she could even look at her face when they just had their first screaming match, and Hermione feared it was the first of a lot to come.

Her eyes were on the floor while she started walking to the carriages. She must be the last one, but she was okay with that fact. Some tranquility after all the noise and all the people would make her some good. 

When she arrived at the carriages there was only one. Just one. Probably the last one.

Hermione knew in that instant when she lifted her head to see her carriage companion that there was no way in hell she would hop in. 

Slytherins. Four of them, or maybe more, maybe less. They felt like a lot in that instant, their reptile eyes studying her, waiting for a move, for a scowl, a snarky comment, or maybe a snooty salutation. And she would have done it if it wasn’t for Draco _Fucking_ Malfoy being one of them.

She stopped her feet abruptly, avoiding the set eyes of what she could remember to be Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson. 

“Don’t fancy a ride with the snakes, Granger?” It was almost a hiss, the venom hitting her face, spilling all over her.

Malfoy searched for her eyes but she refused to give in, the smirk fading the moment she gave him her back and closed her eyes, praying for them to go away. 

_Not a chance, not in this lifetime._

Her lip started to bleed from the intensity that she was biting it with. She couldn’t hop in with them, with _him_. She wouldn’t do it. Hermione would rather crawl through mud.

The sound of the carriage moving filled her surroundings, a cruel feminine giggle fading away with it. 

She stayed there, glued to the ground, trying to forget the icy gray eyes that haunted her nightmares.

The time must have passed her by, for when she finally opened her eyes, in front of her was a Thestral, waiting for her.

Reality hit her, and she couldn’t do more than to bend down and let go in the form of puke.


	2. Chapter 2

Wake up from a restless night, go to the great hall before anyone else, eat enough for the day, go to class, stay in the library, try to sneak food for her dinner, lay in bed reading the same page till her sleeping medication kicked in, and repeat.

That was Hermione´s routine. 

Her body didn't feel like hers anymore, and when it did, she didn’t want it. 

The classes were a mere background sound for her thoughts. People were there, moving faster.

She tried to keep up, but she was so slow.

And everyone was _so_ fast.

Somehow the first week of the term was in it’s final day. Friday started with Hermione waiting for the Great Hall to be filled with food. It was like that, she was always earlier to breakfast. It was easier to avoid everyone if she was earlier to everything.

No one really saw her. No one really noticed.

Good.

With a steady hand she filled selected her breakfast.Food was tasteless at the moment, coffee and biscuits were the only things she really enjoyed.

She was on her second cup of coffee and her third biscuit when people started to fill the great hall. She paid no mind, as she was used to. 

Hermione started to read.

Lately, the only thing she enjoyed — aside from Hogwarts, a History —was reading books that she took from home. Her parent’s home. 

She wasn't really big on Shakespeare but her mother was, naturally. Somehow reading about Hermione the beautiful Queen of Sicily made her stomach twist, the possibility of her mother reading that book and naming her after a queen was unphantable, inconceivable even. 

She was no queen, nor a heroine. She was just Hermione, a muggleborn witch. An orphan. A failure.

Reading the books that used to bring her joy — the memories of her mother reading them until she was in deep sleep filled the delicate pages — were no longer a comfort, but a punishment. Even so, Hermione couldn’t let go of those books.

“Good morning, Hermione.” A familiar voice broke her off her pity party.

The voice was so familiar, but the person in front wasn’t.

Hermione felt the necessity to stare at Neville as he took a seat in front of her. In the days of her having an early breakfast, no one from her house, especially from her year, was up that early. It was a shock to see a friendly face. 

Her old friend didn't look at her, hiding his eyes as he used to do. He looked so much older, his once bright big eyes were now hardened and the eyebags made them look almost angry. His nose was a little crooked and there were little scars all over his face, almost invisible, almost but not at all. 

His brows were always thick but Hermione never saw them frown as they were frowning at that moment. His smile was small — as it used to be. It was a forced smile, not a shy one.

Hermione was in front of a stranger.

Just one sip of her cold coffee was all it took to wash away the lump that was rapidly — painfully — forming in her throat. 

“Good morning, Neville.” She supposed she could add, _Long time no see_ , but she had seen him. Hermione had seen a lot of people in the first days but never paid attention. 

An awkward lopsided smile painted his face. “I haven’t really caught you in breakfast or lunch, or dinner.”

There was silence while Hermione tried to think of a lie. She was getting good at those — lies, excuses.

She was living in a lie. “Yes, i have been a bit preoccupied it seems.” 

“Oh.” Neville wasn't looking at her. 

He was taking a cup with one hand, and the other was taking a flask out of his robes. “Already with the head girl duties?”

There was something about his whole demeanor that made her know that she could just let go of one truth in front of him. He poured what the flask held into the cup.

“No, I haven’t been asked to be the head girl.” She had hoped she wouldn’t. “I just — can’t be around a lot of people, I —”

The truth was becoming such a hard thing to say, like sand making her choke if she tried to let it out.

Neville stopped pouring his tea and nodded, finally looking at her.

“I get it.” It was a small whisper, almost nothing.

But it felt like something. Silence, truth, a friend.

The cup was being filled in front of her, the liquid poured. It looked like tea, but it smelled different, yet familiar. A warming cast made the liquid the right temperature. 

“What is that?”

Neville didn’t look at her, but lifted the cup to his lips even when it was obviously too hot to drink. With a wince feeling her own tongue burn, she watched Neville repeat that same action two more times.

Like it was needed, like he needed that tea.

“Neville, what is that?” Her curiosity was supplanted by anxiety. “Are you alright?”

Neville just nodded. “It’s a family recipe, it helps with—” He seemed to think, to wonder. “Everything, really.”

 _I need two_ , she almost said, almost begged, when she saw his shoulder relax and his frown begin to ease. 

People started to fill the great hall. Slytherins were always there when she finished her breakfast. By the time when the other three houses started to fill the great hall they were gone, like her.

Hermione realized, somehow even when she didn’t realize much anymore, that they were always more than one. Snakes were solitary. Not anymore. it seemed.

“It’s weird.” 

Hermione snapped her eyes to Neville again. “What is?”

“Everything. It doesn't feel real. People were dying here some months ago and now we are eating like it never happened. Like, if everything was back to normal.” There was a certain edginess to Neville’s words that cut through the air and made Hermione bleed. “Nothing is back to normal, not even us. Especially not us.”

It was as if Neville had forgotten she was there. He was talking to himself.

“I have to go.” The need for running was always strong,

Neville just nodded, looking down at his hands that were forming into a fist while resting on the table.

Her eyes were glued to the ground as she pasees everyone by. Only steps and soft whispers, she felt like it was first year all over again. Instead her was held head low and not high.

Nothing was what it used to be.

Arriving at the classroom even before the professors was a usual thing for her. Even though she could agree it was ridiculous how early she was getting into the classrooms. 

The seat closest to the door was her new favorite seat. Long forgotten was the preference for the seat closest to the professor. Hermione could go out faster if needed to, if there were any reason for her to react quickly. 

Putting her books down she started to look inside of the pockets of her robe for the bottle of pills. God awful green pills that somehow she needed to be functional.

The steps of more people arriving didn't bother her. She was ready for more people at that point of the morning. It was only natural. In that instance the only thing that mattered to her was opening the child-proof bottle. It was always a struggle.

“You are already here. God, not even a bloody war took the goody-two-shoes out of you.” The voice made her jump, and the bottle slipped out of her hands. 

Pansy was there. Glorious, pretentious, beautiful, down right bitch Pansy Parkinson.

“Never took you for the easily-scared type.” Pansy passed by her, as Hermione would have done.

With a huff, Hermione stood up and started to look for the bottle she dropped. People needed to stop sneaking up on her, she was going to have a heart attack.

Not bothering to acknowledge Pansy — as Hermione supposed was her new talent, just ignoring things. She kneeled, looking for the bottle. 

More steps, and the bottle was between the chair three desks in front of her. A swift movement of her wand was enough for it to get back to her hand. 

She stood up and was thankful for the lack of dizziness she would surely feel in a couple of hours.

When she looked back to the front seat rows, Pansy was leaning to her side was talking hurriedly to her desk companion, Draco Malfoy — although all she could see was the back of his head, his almost white blonde hair was a big giveaway.

Hermione just couldn’t stop looking at the way Pansy was talking to Malfoy. It was hurried, not flirty. It was serious, not mocking. Her on-brand curiosity piqued for a second— 

“Can I help you, Granger?” 

Just for a second.

The shame of being caught up in the moment of not even eavesdropping but just starting, was too much. Not only Parkinson had caught her, but Mlafoy had turned on his seat and was looking directly at her.

There was a certain amusement reflected in his eyes. She couldn't bear looking at them for long. “Already sticking your nose in someone else's business?”

Hermione ignored him and focused on Parkinson. That's all she could do for the moment.

“I assure you, whatever you are plotting holds no interest to me.”

A cruel giggle and icy eyes filled her mind.

Anger.

“You already did your worst, how bad can it be.?” She opened her bottle at the same time she turned her back on them, stepping into the hallway, feeling the glares on her back.

Hermione took the pill.

* * *

Lunch time was library time for Hermione. No one really was there, everyone was having lunch. She used that time for herself. And to avoid everyone — Ginny, for example.

It had been extremely difficult to avoid her since the fight in the train but she managed it. Even with having her in the same dorm and some classes.

Hermione was trying to understand for the third time a sentence about potion-making in different parts of the world and how it affected the outcome when she heard it.

“You have the guts to come back.” Hermione felt annoyed by the volume of the voice. ”How dare you.”

Hermione lowered her book, listening more carefully to the conversation that was taking place on the other side of the bookshelf. She was about to shut them up with a shush and maybe a lecture about library manners.

“Piss off.” It was a small voice, a kid.

“Watch your mouth you twat.” There was a bang, most likely some books knocked out of their place.

Hermione stood up, trying to make some noise and attract attention to herself, following the voice to the other side of the bookshelf. 

Hermione saw what she feared, a 7th year cornering a 4th year, the boy — the kid — was being held by his collar and pinned to the bookshelf. There was a blooming bruise on his cheekbone and his eyes were holding back tears.

The boy holding him was no other than Michael Corner, Ginny's ex.

There was no need for words, her wand was firmly aimed at Michael.

The kid was let go and Hermione saw it: a Slytherin.

“Are you really defending the likes of them Granger?” She didn't understand the question, nor did she want to.

Scoffing as the kid grabbed the books he was obviously reading before being disturbed, he ran out of the library. She lowered the wand and just glared at Michael.

“He’s a kid and you are almost an adult, Corner. Act like one. I’ll be reporting this.” 

A cruel laugh left his lips. “Good luck with that.”

A twist on her stomach, the fear or something else hiding.

The night came and even if she was carrying the feeling of being ready for bed, she couldn't.

The headmistress had cleared eighth years to go to their respective homes on the weeknd if they desired, a special treatment to the ones who deserved it.

Hermione didn't deserve it. She didn't want it.

That’s why she was walking through the most forgotten hallways of the castle. Even when her sleeping pill was doing its job and making her drowsy. She couldn’t go back to her dorm, Ginny would be waiting for her.

Asking — no, _demanding_ her to go to The Burrow for the weekend. 

That was out of the question. She had told Harry in the letter she sent earlier in the week, _There is so much material to catch up with_. That she needed to stay in Hogwarts and study through everything so she could be ready for the term.

Yes, she was avoiding them, and that's why she was walking like a lost soul through the hallways.

Touching the walls that some months ago were being torn apart. She walked through the darkness and it was somehow calming. Even when her mind was so loud, the sound of her steps was calming enough.

Her steps flattered and her calmness was gone.

Far away, a shadow was coming towards her. 

“Hello?” Her voice was a mere whisper. Looking for her wand as slowly as she could, the beat of her heart beating in her throat, the sound of everything fading.

The calm gone, the fear creeping in.

“Hermione?” 

She casted some light so she could see him.

Nevillle was looking at her, surprised. Raggy, beaten, bloody Neville was looking at her.

Her hands shook for a moment, feeling like she was looking at the same bloody Neville that let them into Hogwarts the day of the battle.

“What happened?” she whispered, lowering her wand even when her insides screamed that she needed to be alert.

Neville looked dazed. Calmer, his eyes were tired and his hair was wet. He had been doing something that made him tired. The smell of sweat, dirt and alcohol made her scrunch her face.

“What happened?” she asked again.

Neville shrugged and just smiled politely. “Nothing really, just went out for a bit before heading to my grandma’s tomorrow.”

He passed her by, as if that was enough explanation. As if she should be satisfied with the fact that he was a beaten mess. 

Hermione followed him hurriedly, calling his name several times at the risk of being caught by the Prefects doing rounds.

“Neville!” Hermione grabbed his arm, making him stop abruptly. 

“Don’t!”

Hermione stopped abruptly. For a moment she thought it was Neville’s voice that had screamed, but when Neville stopped with her and looked at her, she knew it wasn’t the case.

Neville turned his back to look at her, as if asking her if it was real.

There was a commotion , grunts. There was no words, just understanding between the friends. Both broke for a run towards where the sound was. 

Neville was Faster but Hermione did everything she could even when her body felt like it was about to crash. The rush she was feeling was so unwelcome yet so familiar. She felt like being sick.

All they needed was to make a turn in the corner to see the cause of the commotion. Hermione was welcomed with the sight of someone on the floor covering his head as Michael Corner was kicking him without mercy.

Hermione was about to react, _Petrificus Totalus_ on the tip of her tongue. Neville was faster.

He got Michael off the poor soul that had been kicked to pulp — not with a charm but with a punch that threw him off balance. Hermione felt like she was the one petrified.

Neville Longbottom had just punched someone.

And landed another punch, and another, until Michael was looking at the roof with a dazed expression. 

It was like she was in another dimension. A grunt snapped her out of reality, she saw the face of the person and it was the same face she saw in the library, the same kid that was being cornered in the library. 

She ran to him and the sight of his broken nose made her feel dizzy but pushed it away. There would be time for her to freak out, she needed to push it, to push it.

The kid looked at her with tears streaming through his eyes and a ugly cut in his lip. 

“Did he hit you in the head?” Hermione asked as she felt Neville kneel next to her.

She could fix his nose in the meantime, but she really didn't know what else was happening to him. How hard he was hit or how badly broken the nose was. They needed to take him to Pomfrey.

“No, I'm okay. I’m okay. I need to get to the dorms before anyone else realizes.”

The kid tried to sit but it was not a good plan.

“You could have a contusion, or something broken. We need to report this and take you to —”

Neville put a steady hand on the boy’s shoulder so he could sit without falling back to the floor. He was panicking, he was sweaty, and trembling. He wasn’t scared — he was terrified.

The right thing, the logical thing, would be to take him to Pomfrey so he could be treated properly, but Hermione knew better to force something like that when someone was having a panic attack.

“Where do you want to go?” Neville asked with a soft voice. Even when the blood and the dirt made that him look like a madman, his voice was always so soft. “Your dorm?”

Hermione had millions of protests in her head. How that wasn’t the way to go about those situations, how leaving Michael on the floor was not right and how Neville had been out of place with those punches. A lot of things were unsaid but for some reason going by the rules wasn't something that Hermione cared about in the moment.

Somehow, both of them got him to the entrance of the Dungeons. Neville helped the kid to walk as she tried to not get caught by the Prefects.

“Andrew!” Someone was waiting in the entrance of the dungeons. Daphne Greengrass,if Hermione could recall. With quick steps and a worried frown.

Neville let go of Andrew and stepped back as an ugly glare was directed towards him. Hermione couldn’t blame her. Neville was looking more like a foe than a friend. 

“It wasn't him.” Hermiones stepped in front of Neville ,who was awkwardly looking at his reddened knuckles. “Michael Corner, he— “

“That insufferable twat.”

Hermione could see how someone was going to their way. A tall shadow. 

“You should report this to the headmistress and go to Pomfrey.” Hermione stood up sure and with her head held up high. 

There was silence. Daphne’s eyes just rolled, not bothering to look at them, while she helped Andrew walk back to the dungeons.

“I'll do it if you don't,” she insisted as Daphne mothered Andrew, and ignored her.

The shadow became Draco as he passed by Daphne, and Hermione started to feel irritated at how much she had to endure his presence.

Draco stepped in front of her, with hardened eyes. ”Do that. It won’t make a difference”.

He was taller than her, so much taller. It was easier that way to make her eyes to go everywhere but his eyes. “He needs to go to Pomfrey, he could have a concussion.” 

“He got what he needs here, we’ll take care of him. The war is over, Granger. There’s no need for a Heroine here.” Hermione felt Neville tense behind her. “We will not bother you. We’ll stay on our side of the castle. I do recommend you do the same.”

“I’ll report this to the Headmistress,” she said through gritted teeth. “I don’t need your approval.”

Hermione lifted her head, feeling the cold feeling she knew too well looking at those grey eyes. “There needs to be consequences for this.”

“There are consequences, punishment being made, alright.” It was sarcastic, passive-aggressive.

His eyes were a void. There was nothing there. Hermione felt emptiness, cold, just looking at them.

Just as before. Just as that day,

“Run along Granger, Longbottom we do not need you here.” He stepped back. “We will deny anything you say about this day.”

He walked away from there, elegantly, without a care in the world.

“You are welcome!” Neville shouted as Draco disappeared in the shadows. “Arsehole.”

Hermione just nodded, feeling like she was glued to the ground. All the feelings repressed hitting her like a train, making her feel weak, making her feel sick.

There was a silence between the two friends who still looked to the same direction. Stuck there.

“Cannabis,” Neville whispered.

“Huh?” She felt so empty, so overwhelmed.

“The tea is cannabis-infused.”

Silence.

He passed the flask to her. 

And she takes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pain in the ass but I enjoyed so much doing it. I'm so grateful for all the love and the hype, yall inspire me much.
> 
> Thanks to @vesperics. My beta, my friend, and the one who had to endure my drunk rants :( 
> 
> Love all of you <3

**Author's Note:**

> I need to thank Herman and Julia for this one, not only they just listened to me rant about this craziness but encouraged me to keep going.  
> Ang sweet sweet @vesperics, for being a light in my life and the beta that saved my ass on this one.


End file.
